Dance Around the Flames
by LianneZ4
Summary: Sara is a PI. Neal is a thief. Between crimes, pretense and trust issues, there is no way things between them could ever develop into something more… Sara-centric, pre-series AU, set in the same universe as my "Dangerous" ficlet.
1. Part I

**DANCE AROUND THE FLAMES**

 **Summary: Sara is a PI. Neal is a thief. Between crimes, pretense and trust issues, there is no way things between them could ever develop into something more…**

Pre-series AU, Sara-centric, written for wcpairings for sapphire2309; beta-read by reve-silencieux. Set in the same universe as my _Dangerous_ ficlet.

* * *

 **PART I**

It has been easy to gain access to the private viewing at the gallery. Still, standing here in her tight black dress and high heels, sipping champagne and laughing at her companion's dumb jokes, Sara decides that next time, she will call in a favor with one of her contacts and get herself her own invitation.

She is many things, but trophy girlfriend material clearly isn't on of them.

Her companion pulls her closer and Sara's smile gets even wider with teeth. Unfortunately she has left her gun at home. Not that she would shoot her companion in plain sight – she has _some_ self control. Maybe. She still has the baton in her purse. Surely she wouldn't cause _that_ much of a scene if she broke his hand and kneed him in the nuts for good measure? Wait – was he now _groping_ her ass?!

Still smiling, she brushes her lips over his ear. "Unhand me this instance or I'll smash both your feet with my heel."

"What?"

 _Some people just couldn't take a hint._

o - o - o

 _That went well._

Already feeling better, Sara allows herself a smile. She has successfully ditched her date (she doubts there will be any further interest from _that_ direction), and now she is free to focus on her job.

It's moments like this that make her feel alive.

Pretending to be checking her phone, she turns her attention to the man about fifteen paces from her. Her client was concerned that Damien Ross might be looking to betray their company. Turning on the photo app, Sara starts taking pictures of Ross and some unknown woman, thinking about the new advances in technology that were making her PI business that much simpler.

Her target soon abandons the conversation and starts moving across the room.

A waiter with glasses of champagne almost bumps into her, giving Sara the perfect opportunity to turn and get a better angle on Ross between mumbled apologies and more fake giggles. Putting her phone away for the moment, she follows him across the room. If Ross is smart, he won't meet with anyone important here, but maybe she'll luck out. Some people _are_ known to be blatantly arrogant or stupid.

She could – _Whoa._

Sara freezes when she realizes that someone else is watching her.

 _Has she been made?_ She smiles politely at the man across the room, her pulse racing when he grins back and gives her a small salute with his glass. Who the hell is the guy?

She raises her eyebrows at him and then subtly changes the direction of her steps. The last thing she needs is someone realizing who she is or why she is really here.

She ends up standing in front of a bizarre abstract painting of colored splotches. For a moment, Sara focuses on very intently staring the picture until she feels she has successfully lost the man's attention. Mentally, she recounts Damien Ross's behavior tonight. If he is smart, he will discuss business after the gallery viewing. Sara's proper camera along with the rest of her tech equipment was left in the car she has parked nearby. She would have to slip the gallery just before Ross, get changed, pick her stuff up and be quick enough that he didn't disappear in the process.

She grins. _Should be fun._

"Do you like the painting?" says someone behind her.

She turns around in a whirl. "Excuse me?"

It is the same guy who has been staring at her earlier. "You've been looking at it for a while. Do you like it?"

Sara blinks before plastering on a fake smile. "Oh, you mean the painting! Yes, I simply _love_ it. It's so…" _Green?_ "It has… character."

"Character?"

 _Screw it._ "It's a mix of green and yellow splotches," says Sara flatly. "Are you stalking me?"

The man grins. "After how I saw your date hobble to the bathroom, hell no. I value my limbs too much."

"Good for you," says Sara. "Now if you'll excuse me, Mr…"

"Nicholas Halden. Call me Nick."

"Halden…" Where has she heard that name? "Wait a second. You work for Vincent Adler."

"As a member of his Acquisitions team. You're well informed." Nick's smile widens before he lowers his voice. "And _you_ don't belong here. Who are you? NYPD, FBI?"

 _Damn._ "My name's Sara, and I'd appreciate if you kept your theories to yourself."

"Of course," says Nick mildly. "So, Sara. Are you investigating any of these fine people beside Mr. Ross over there?"

"Should I be? How about you? Does "Nicholas Halden" have any interesting secrets?"

"Sadly, I'm an honest man. No secrets to be worth telling."

"I very much doubt that," says Sara dryly.

She gives Halden a second look, this time actually studying him more closely. He is charming and handsome in a sort of boyish way. A hint of intelligence in the twinkling blue eyes; a suit that fits well enough but isn't custom made; boldness, daring and mischief – if Halden has no secrets, she'll eat her hat.

Sara is intrigued.

Unfortunately, she also has a job to do.

"Well, I'd love to chat, but…"

"If I tell you right now what Damien Ross has been up to, will you have dinner with me?"

Sara coughs. "Excuse me?"

"May I?" Picking two champagne glasses off a nearby tray, Nick gives one to Sara before taking a sip from his own. "Ross has been peeved by being passed over for a promotion and approached several rival companies. He seems to have hit the jackpot with that guy, Andre Lester."

"And?"

"And that's all I know," says Nick with a shrug. "My boss's company has no business with Ross or Lester and their people. We _could_ have tried to dig up more, but… I think I'll rather lose a favor with one of them if the price is a dinner with you."

" _Whoa_ , slow down. Are you this presumptuous by nature or do you have to practice?"

"Part of my charm," says Halden with a winning smile. "So. If you're not a cop, nor FBI, are you in the private business?"

"Maybe," says Sara noncommittally. "How about you? You're rather young, how did you get a job like yours at Adler's company?"

"I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"Really. Well, _Nick_ , unlike you, I have a job to do tonight, so you'll excuse me if I have to cut this fascinating conversation short."

"Of course. … Just – wait for a moment."

She stops and raises her eyebrows at him.

For a second, she thinks she sees a flash of uncertainty. She must be wrong though, or if it was ever there, it disappears when Halden reaches into his jacket and pulls out a business card. "I'm right about Ross and Lester. And I was serious about the date."

"The _date?_ "

He hands her the card, his confidence back in place. "My number. I've got plenty of other good intel in case you change your mind."

"Yeah, don't count on it," says Sara flatly.

Nick gives her a small nod. "Of course. Good luck with Ross, Sara. It's been a pleasure meeting you."

 _Should she say it was a pleasure meeting him?_

"Thanks for the tip," she replies instead.

Nick smiles at her. "You're welcome."

She almost tosses the card. In the end, she buries it in her purse.

If Nick turned out to be right, she could think about his offer later. For now, she has a job to do.

o - o - o

Three days later, Damien Ross has been sacked by his company and Sara collects a generous payment from her client. In the aftermath, she is in a good enough mood that she decides to give Nick Halden a call.

The dinner is surprisingly entertaining. The sex afterwards is even better.

She thinks that will be the end of it. Instead, Nick texts her the next day, except Sara has _not_ given him her number.

She could politely tell him off and wait to see if he'd stop. Or she could meet with him again, and in the meantime, find as much as she could about him. If Halden is a stalker or worse, someone should expose him before people got hurt.

But their third meeting goes well enough, and before the next one, Sara has found all the information she needs on her new contact. 'Nick' is indeed working for Vincent Adler, but a deeper look reveals that that is not his real identity.

 _A thief. A forger. A con man._

 _Neal Caffrey._

A criminal maybe, but by all accounts not violent, and there isn't anyone paying her to investigate Caffrey.

She could approach Vincent Adler and potentially win herself a powerful ally in the future. The question is, is it worth it?

Sara smiles in glee at the revelation. Mr. Caffrey has just become that more entertaining.

o - o - o

A few months pass.

There is nothing between them, just a mutually advantageous acquaintance with some very enjoyable side benefits. They meet from time to time, usually at some anonymous café or diner where they exchange small favors and bits of information. Sometimes there is sex after they meet _(sometimes they skip the meeting and go right to the sex part)_ ; however, Sara isn't fooling herself that Caffrey sees her as anything more than a fling.

Caffrey is always good company; amusing, funny and challenging. He is also great in bed and he doesn't demand exclusivity or even a _relationship_ , which suits her just fine.

She never approaches Adler or the FBI with her knowledge of him.

Then one day, she turns on the morning news and it changes everything.

o - o - o

" _Vincent Adler has disappeared, and with him hundreds of millions of dollars of his clients' money. A preliminary investigation indicates his investment firm may have been built on a giant house of cards. Securities regulators now claim Adler never traded any shares for client accounts. If true, Adler's disappearance could prove to be the brilliant exit strategy for one of the greatest financial frauds of our time."_

Sara feels as if she's been hit by a sledgehammer.

 _Was Caffrey involved? Could she have stopped it?_

She packs the file she has on Caffrey and calls a taxi to take her to the White Collar office of the FBI.

She reads the news on her way to the FBI building. Vincent Adler has disappeared; his clients, his employees, _everyone_ has been robbed by the man. And Neal Caffrey has been right in the middle of it all the whole time.

So many people who have trusted him. _Charities_ have been robbed, some of which might not even survive after this.

 _And Caffrey…_

Sara pauses.

If he was also behind this… If it turns out she _knew_ he was a con man and did nothing, that she could have stopped him and instead kept dealing with him, she could very well say goodbye to her PI business – she'll lose everything. And really she deserves that, but if there is some infinitesimal chance that he _wasn't involved…_

A few streets before the FBI building, she tells the cab driver to pull over and wait for her. Once she's alone, she dials Caffrey's number, praying that he will pick up, knowing he has most likely tossed the phone long ago and is now thousands of miles away somewhere on a Mediterranean island.

"… _Sara? Hey…"_

"Don't even try it, "Nick". Were you in on it?"

There is a pause. _"I take it you've seen the news."_

Her heart sinks. "And what is your cut, ten percent? Twenty? You know how many people have lost their life savings, what will happen to them now? Do you even care if they end up on the streets or–"

" _I didn't know,"_ Caffrey interrupts her forcefully. _"I swear, I didn't. I got screwed like everyone else, I'm out of money, out of a job–"_

"I think I may cry," says Sara flatly. She hesitates. "I'm coming to your place."

" _It's not a good time –"_

"Bye, Nick," says Sara and hangs up.

She returns to the waiting cab. "I need you to take me to a FedEx store or to Walgreen. Then we have two more stops to make."

o - o - o

She buys a big envelope and puts the Caffrey file inside. Then she visits Elijah at the tech shop, one of the very few acquaintances she sort of trusts.

"If I don't call you by tomorrow, take this to the FBI."

She doesn't really think Caffrey is the type for violence, but if she's wrong, then she'll make damn sure he doesn't get away with it.

Finally, Sara has the cabbie take her within two streets of Caffrey's apartment. She adds a generous tip on the top of his fee before saying her goodbye.

As she knocks on Caffrey's door, she hopes she's not making a huge mistake.

o - o - o

He pours her a glass of wine. She refuses to touch it even as she sees him take a drink himself.

"You think I owe you an explanation," states "Nick" blankly after he takes a sip from his glass.

"I'd like to hear one, yes."

She doesn't threaten or mention the fact that she's a PI, because she's pretty sure Caffrey already knows that about her. The fact that he's still there has already halfway convinced her that he wasn't in on it, but she has to be sure.

Caffrey hesitates. "Are you recording this?"

"What do you think, Nick?" asks Sara mildly, though behind the threads of anger she also feels curious.

He considers her for a moment. "You're not wearing a wire," he states at last. "You're here for yourself, not the FBI or anyone else. You came here to talk."

"You're right." It's close enough to the truth, anyway. "So, are you going to tell me the truth?"

"My real name is Neal Caffrey," he says at last. "Some may have called me a con man in the past, allegedly. But I think you already knew that."

"Con man and thief," says Sara. "All slander of course."

"Of course." Caffrey grins at her. Then he turns serious. "I didn't know about Adler's Ponzi scheme."

"But you had your own game running," Sara suggests.

"Maybe. A long con, allegedly. Didn't work out."

"Do you want to elaborate on that?"

"Not particularly, no. My turn. Do you intend to turn me in?"

 _Does she?_

"If you weren't in on it, why should I turn you in?"

Before this, they used to exchange information for information. They had a good thing going.

Still, there are some lines Sara's not willing to cross, and stealing from charities is one of them.

"Tell me a story," she says at last.

o - o - o

She doesn't turn him in.

She tells Caffrey not to contact her again. She believes him already, but she checks out his story anyway, and it fits. She calls him herself just a week after that.

When she sees Neal's genuine smile at meeting her again, she tells herself it means nothing. Caffrey is a self-centered thief, a con man and a liar; childish, impulsive and unreliable in just about every way you could imagine.

She likes him a little, maybe. She smiles more, and there's more banter between them now that she knows and _he_ knows that _she_ knows. The sex is pretty good too.

All of that pales to the fact that their association helps Sara close cases.

She quickly finds that there are lines she _will_ cross if need be when Neal's insight helps her uncover an embezzling scheme run by the husband of one of her clients. For all the times the man escaped charges of domestic violence, Sara would like to see him get out of _that_ , now that the FBI has her _very_ enlightening file on the abusive fucker.

If in turn she gives Caffrey a tip how to infiltrate some rich guy's party, it is their fault that they didn't use better security when their jewelry gets stolen. She considers it a fair trade.

She knows she could end up in prison if someone found out about her association with Caffrey, though it's unlikely they would be able to prove her involvement. And Sara knows not to stray too much into the gray areas – if she messes up, she will lose her PI license, and she genuinely loves her job. But when it comes to certain subjects like abuse or family, Sara would always feel the familiar stab of pain and rage that years have yet to dull down, and that feeling would obliterate most of the boundaries that usually restrict her.

Then all bets are off.


	2. Part II

**PART II**

The next time everything changes, it starts with a case.

Sometimes, Sara couldn't care less about her clients. Recovering a priceless purse, spying on a cheating wife for her cheating husband, researching a potential business partner? Whatever, someone had to do it and the money was pretty good. Sometimes though, their stories affect her, and every now and then there's one that shakes her to the core.

Danielle Clayton is three years older than Sara and has a six-year-old boy. The past four years, Danielle was working as a caretaker for Mr. Normand Stout, a rich elderly gentleman whose only living grandson showed little interest in his life. As a part of her salary and to keep her closer, Mr. Stout rented Danielle a small apartment in the vicinity of his house. Before his death, he willed Danielle the apartment so she and her son could keep living her as a show of gratitude for Danielle's friendship and care.

Unfortunately, Stout's grandson and heir had other ideas.

Danielle explains to Sara that Jeremy Stout hid the will and has threatened to have her and her son evicted from the apartment, unless she pays him a rent she simply can't afford. When Danielle implies what _other_ methods of payment Jeremy Stout proposed, Sara is ready to strangle the man and dump his body in the Hudson.

Still, she has questions before she's ready to accept the case.

"How do you know Mr. Stout actually willed you the apartment?"

Danielle gives her a bitter smile. "He told me before he died, and then Jeremy showed me the will when he laughed in my face. That little creep has been leering over me ever since I started taking care of his grandfather. I'd take him to court, but he's got a whole bunch of lawyers and I don't even have enough evidence to prove my claims."

"Oh I'll get you evidence," snaps Sara impulsively, her mind already set.

After she and Danielle agree on her fees, she gives her a contact for a decent lawyer who actually cares enough for his pro bono work. The good thing is that at least Danielle has found a temporary new job, though the money's barely enough to provide for her and her son. Unless Sara finds a way to expose Jeremy Stout for the lying asshole he is, Danielle and her boy will soon be homeless.

She's not going to let that happen.

o - o - o

She checks out Danielle's story first. It's not that she doesn't believe her, but Sara likes covering all her bases. However, as far as she can tell, Danielle has been telling her the truth.

Next, Sara runs her most thorough background check on Jeremy Stout. Unfortunately, it turns out that the man is clean, or as clean as a rich spoiled kid is likely to be. A couple of parties that got out of hand, covered up by his grandfather's money; one reported drug incident that has been swept under the rug, no charges filled.

Her blood boils when she speaks to several girls that Jeremy hit on in the past. However, he never turned to violence and on their own, each of these encounters could have arguably been consensual. All in all, Sara gets a picture of an amoral man who knows just how far he can push so he doesn't get in trouble – and who is well-aware that he has the money and lawyers who will bail him out if it comes to that.

She talks to Agent Hughes from the FBI, but the White Collar division is too busy at the moment to pursue a case that they're not even sure exists. Sara then suggests that Danielle tries to make Jeremy incriminate herself on tape, but Danielle balks at the idea and Sara reluctantly abandons it.

 _If only they could get their hands at the will…_

After talking to Danielle and doing some research on her own, Sara concludes that there are two places where Jeremy would keep an important document like that – in his office, or in the safe at his house.

The office building Sara can talk her way into, more or less. For the house, she would need to use some pretty advanced B&E and safecracking skills.

 _Office it is._

She calls a contact who owes her a favor and gets herself a decent excuse for being in the building. She waits until Jeremy's having his lunch break before pulling out her lockpick set. When the coast is clear, Sara deftly unlocks the door to Jeremy's office and quickly starts searching the place. No safes, but that's not unexpected; picking two additional locks, she searches his drawers and then moves on to the nearby cupboard…

According to her information, she should have about half an hour. Yet some instinct warns her when she hears footsteps outside twenty minutes later. She slams the cupboard shut and just barely takes two steps away when the door opens and Jeremy Stout walks into the room.

 _Damn._

He stills when he sees her. "What are you doing here?"

Sara gives him her brightest smile. "Mr. Stout! I'm so excited to meet you, sir!"

"Excuse me? Who are you and how did you get in my office?"

"My name is Sara Harris. I've heard you have an opening in the company and I wanted to talk to you–"

"You _what?"_

"I want that job. I'd be really good at it, you'll see–"

"Stay where you are," Jeremy Stout snaps at her.

Waiting silently, Sara watches him as he goes to check his computer (the screen is still dark, the access protected by password). He checks the drawers _(locked, she's been careful in removing the traces of her search)_ and seems a bit reassured when he finds everything in order, yet his expression remains angry and highly suspicious.

"How did you get in my office?"

"Oh, there was this man who let me in–"

"Who?"

Sara smiles apologetically. "I think he had dark hair? I'm sorry, I'm terrible with faces–"

"That's it." Turning back to his desk, Stout grabs the phone and dials a quick number. "Security? Please send someone to room 623."

"What? Wait, that's not–"

"I want to see your ID," says Stout angrily.

"Um, of course," Sara stutters and starts fumbling through her purse. Ignoring her real wallet, she pulls out the decoy and takes out her fake ID. "Look, I'm sorry, I just came about the job–"

"Let me see your bag."

"What? You can't–"

"You'll be lucky if I don't call the police."

There is some nervous stuttering and more fumbling, but in the end Jeremy is satisfied when he realizes that Sara didn't steal any of his documents. The security guard then escorts her out of the building – if she ever needs to come back, she'll have to be smart about it – and finally, when Sara is standing outside on the street, she lets her fearful mask fall and fully feels her anger and embarrassment. Barely keeping her anger in check, she calls a taxi and has it take her to a nearby coffee shop where she can fully ponder the situation.

She let herself get caught. Well, she'd had a backup plan and in the end Jeremy believed her story, but still, she messed up. She is better than that. She _has_ to be better than that.

Fuck her embarrassment. She's got bigger problems.

She knows now that Jeremy isn't keeping the will in his office – she's seen the places he checked, and she has searched them all. Which means it is at his house. And that means breaking into that place after Stout has already seen her face.

She thinks it can't get worse, until Danielle calls her that night and tells her that Jeremy Stout gave her an ultimatum: a week to pay him one way or another, otherwise she'll end up on the street.

Sara struggles not to lose her temper as she tries to reassure her. "I swear to you, you're _not_ going to get evicted and I'm _not_ losing this case. You have to trust me."

She's not failing them. To see Danielle and her boy evicted? _Over her dead body._

 _She really needs to get her hands on that will._

o - o - o

She can't steal it, not after Jeremy Stout saw her. That means she only has one option.

The next day, Sara arranges a meeting with Caffrey.


	3. Part III

**PART III**

She's pleasantly sore when she gets dressed; still feeling the powerful throbbing in her body and the sweet echo of pain while her hardened nipples begin to soften again.

Caffrey left a bite on her shoulder. Relishing that feeling, Sara knows she did worse, leaving scratches on his back that might take a few days to fade. Glancing back at the bed, she sees him still lying there, naked under the covers. Catching her eyes, Neal gives her a slightly goofy smile, and that look stirs the threads of something tender within Sara's heart.

She squashes that sentiment with a vengeance.

She knows how this game is played – a hint of weakness, and she will be Caffrey's mark before she can blink. Hell, she already _is_ his mark, only she uses him right back and they're both aware of it.

Mutual exploitation with sex and orgasms. It's the only way a relationship like theirs could ever work.

"I'll grab some water," she tells Neal when she straightens her clothes. She pours herself some water from the kitchen sink, and then deciding that Neal is probably thirsty as well, she fills a second glass before heading back.

Neal murmurs a thank you when he accepts the glass from her. Sara smiles at him in return before turning away, the reasons why she came here suddenly back at the front of her mind.

 _She can't do it herself, so she needs Caffrey to steal the will._

Manipulation is one thing, but intimacy makes things messy. She shouldn't have slept with him.

"I'd love to paint you."

Sara blinks, surprised by the unexpected words. "Excuse me?"

Neal stares at her. "You don't even realize. You're so perfect. Beautiful."

She raises her eyebrows at him. "I think you've been watching too much _Titanic_. Wait. You just want to get me naked again."

He grins wickedly. "Well, I didn't mean a nude, but since you mentioned it…"

"In your dreams, art boy. Find another red-head to play your Rose."

"If we're really going with that scenario, I sure hope I wouldn't have to _die_ ," says Neal sarcastically and Sara snorts despite herself. "But I'm serious. Sara…"

She laughs at him. "No deal, Neal."

She doesn't have the room for complications.

He shrugs. "Well. Your loss."

Pushing the covers away, he finally starts getting dressed (and damn, the way he smirks at her, Sara has to look away because she knows she's being played). She suddenly wishes this was a simpler world, that Caffrey was someone she could trust, and then she curses herself for being so naïve.

 _If she could find another way…_

"Everything okay?" asks Neal suddenly. "You seem a bit distracted…"

Of course he noticed. And she needs to stop screwing this up. Shaking her head, Sara smiles at Neal and motions to the easel a few feet away. "I was just looking at your painting. You're pretty good at this." She wonders where he hides his forgeries.

"I didn't know you were a fan of art."

"I'm not exactly," Sara admits. "I like some of it."

Neal chuckles. "Definitely no green and yellow splotches, though?"

"Well, it brought me to you, so…"

 _Wait, is she actually flirting with him…?_

This has to stop, now.

"I'm glad that you're here."

 _And damn it if Caffrey doesn't make it all that more difficult._

Looking away to pull herself together, Sara once again remembers why she came here.

She smiles at him. "Tell me, how would you feel about going to a party and stealing something in the process?"

"A party?"

"I'm sure you'll love it. Lots of champagne, people in dresses, maybe some dancing. One safe to crack."

Caffrey blinks before grinning in delight. "Wait, are you asking me out on a heist date? I'm so in love with you!"

 _Wait, a_ heist date _? How is that even a thing?_ "I can't go with you. The mark knows me; I'll be the first suspect once he realizes he'd been robbed."

"You sure? It could be fun…"

"Fun for _you_ , Neal. Unlike you, some of us live in the real world." Sara tries to keep the irritation out of her voice. She really needs his help or a young woman goes homeless.

"So basically, you're asking me for a favor." His preening voice pisses her off even more.

"It's just a simple residential robbery. I'm sure you could pull it off in your sleep."

"Probably," says Neal with a shrug. "What's the target anyway? Bonds? Jewelry?"

"Just some documents," Sara replies, not willing to reveal her weakness. It's not like Caffrey would care one bit about Danielle and her kid.

"So you want me to steal some dirty photos and do the PI job for you?" Neal frowns at her. "I'm not your tool, Sara."

"Of course not. You're a thief and you want a profit. How very opportunist of you."

"That's not what I meant. This thing between us always went both ways. What's going on?"

"That's not your business," Sara snaps at him.

"It is when you want to involve me."

She's flustered. "You want both ways? Fine. You steal this for me and I don't turn you in to the FBI."

Silence.

 _What…_

Before her own words register in her brain, Sara already knows she's made a terrible mistake.

 _Did she just…_

"So you're blackmailing me," says Neal blankly.

He smiles at her, and there's the pain of betrayal barely concealed in his eyes – _he's a sociopath, a con man, it's not_ real –

It's a stab in a heart, because she can't take the words back, can't undo them even if she wanted to.

' _You're blackmailing me.'_

But there's still a kid and a young woman who need her help. "Yes. I am."

 _She did this._

For a moment, Caffrey stares at her with that terrible expression. Then he shakes his head and laughs, chuckling as he gives her an amused look. "You're really quite ruthless, aren't you? All right, what is it I'm supposed to steal?"

"It's a will," says Sara. "My client's a young woman with a child. There's a man – Jeremy Stout – he hid the will because it says that there's a small apartment that belongs to my client. He's threatening to evict her next week. If I don't get the will to her–"

"A mom with a kid?"

"Yes." She chokes on all the unsaid words. "Caffrey…"

"You said there's a party, right? Do you know where exactly the safe is and what type it is?"

"It's in his bedroom; I don't know the exact type."

"His address? Details?"

Sara clears her throat. "I can get you access to the party–"

"No need," Neal interrupts her with a smile. "Just give me the information and I'll get you the will."

' _I didn't want to do this.'_

But she did.

Reaching into her handbag, Sara pulls out a small envelope. "This is Stout's address and personal details… I need to have an alibi for the theft itself, but if there's anything else that–"

"Don't worry, I can handle it. Anything else?"

Wordlessly, she shakes her head. "I'll see myself out," she says at last.

' _Don't get caught,'_ she almost adds – but she knows he's good, and she doesn't have the right anymore.

"Good luck," she says at last.

She closes the door to Neal's apartment and a chapter of her life ends. She wishes it didn't hurt that much.

o - o - o

She has several restless nights.

She wonders if Neal will use the party as a cover for the robbery. She doesn't doubt he could do it on another day as well, and maybe she should get an alibi for these days too, but instead, she spends those evenings at home, trying and failing to find a distraction.

She throws herself headfirst into another of her cases, and that works a little bit at least. She tries not to think about Danielle or Neal, and instead helps one of her lawyer contacts find some evidence that would help their defendant in the upcoming trial.

 _It's not enough._

No matter if he succeeds or not, if he gets caught or brings her the will, Sara knows that her "relationship" with Caffrey is over.

Finally, she comes home one day and finds Neal sitting on a chair in her kitchen.

Sara stills.

"Hey Sara," says Neal lightly. There are several sheets of papers lying on the table.

Swallowing hard, Sara picks them up, discovering immediately that it's the will that Jeremy Stout has hidden from Danielle. With this, Danielle actually has a fighting chance at keeping her apartment.

"Is it a forgery?" she blurts out and then wants to kick herself.

Neal shakes his head. "I knew you needed the real thing." He grins at her. "It was a great party. The champagne was just as good as you told me."

"I'm so sorry." The words slip out before she can stop them; worthless, meaningless.

Neal shrugs. "I understand, really. I read the will and looked things up. You wanted to help that woman and the kid."

" _You_ helped them," says Sara forcefully, because somehow saying it out loud matters. _'And I stabbed you in the back.'_

"Well, you were right. I am a thief." Neal gives her a small smile. "It was a good thing while it lasted. I had a good time."

"Me too." She blinks hard, but she's not going to cry when she did this herself.

Neal smiles at her. "Goodbye, Sara."

She doesn't stop him as he walks out the door.

o - o - o

She doesn't call him, and he doesn't contact her again. He goes to Europe, and she hears the stories about his shenanigans; the daring heists, the ingenuous cons and the incredible tricks that by all means never should have worked.

He's outrageous, clever, amazing. _He's going to get caught._

 _It meant nothing. Mutual exploitation with sex and orgasms._

It wasn't supposed to hurt this much.


	4. Part IV

**PART IV**

A year passes. Sara continues her PI job. On occasion, she hears the news about Caffrey's exploits and smiles with a bit of ache, but she knows it's over and she is moving on.

She still enjoys fixing the various wrongs in the world. She hears one day that Danielle won the legal battle against Jeremy Stout; got back the apartment along with a hefty compensation that should allow her and her boy to be comfortable for a while at least. No matter how things turned out otherwise, Sara is glad that at least Danielle got her own share of justice and happiness.

Between tracking back missing items and catching unfaithful spouses, she also works some more interesting cases. It's during another embezzlement scheme that she makes several acquaintances with the FBI White Collar division. In a different world, she might have called Peter Burke a friend.

 _Acquaintances and contacts._ Anything else just brings too much complications.

o - o - o

It's another of those boring cases that nevertheless help her pay the bills and make her PI business look more "by the book."

Mrs. McCann is a cop's wife who comes to Sara worried about her marriage. Her husband has been evasive lately, she says; lying to her, working far too many late nights, making thin excuses. She thinks he has found a mistress.

Infidelity cases aren't Sara's particular favorites. For one reason, taking photos of cheating spouses in compromising positions gets pretty monotone after a while, and she could probably write a book on what _not_ to do if you're pretending not to be involved with someone. Besides, apart from the rare cases when the target actually turned out to be faithful to their partner, most infidelity cases end in pain and heartbreak.

On the upside, at least this time, she's up against someone who knows a bit about investigation and secrecy, so he should be more interesting than the average schmuck. And who knows, maybe she'll get lucky this time and Mr. Cop will have a kinky side to himself to make things more interesting _(he did look rather hot in his photo.)_

She follows him around for a few days and he slips her once, but she's not sure it wasn't just a bad coincidence. His finances are the first thing that gives her pause. As opposed to most adulterers who are trying to hide their expenses from their spouse, her latest target seems to be quietly introducing more money _into_ the family finances.

At the moment, she has little to no evidence to support her claim. Yet she's begun to suspect that McCann is up to something more nefarious than simply having a woman on the side.

Sara perks up at the challenge.

A few days later, she finally seems to have hit the jackpot.

She follows McCann to a shady part of the town, more and more convinced that there is something else going on, her suspicions all but confirmed when she tracks him down to an old warehouse.

The windows of the warehouse are covered, but she finds a place where the paper has ruffled up and she can actually see a bit of the inside. After quickly checking her surroundings, Sara presses her face closer to a window, getting a glimpse of a dim-lit room that seems to be empty except for a table and a few chairs.

 _And money._ There's a whole suitcase of it on the table.

Quietly thinking about her equipment, Sara concludes that with some luck, she might be able to get a half-decent photo. Reaching for her bag, she starts pulling out her camera when some instinct warns her and she turns around.

She barely catches a glimpse of her assailant when something hits her over the head and everything goes black.

o - o - o

She wakes up in a dark room, ropes around her chest and thighs, her hands and feet zip-tied to a chair, her mouth gagged. Clearly, whoever caught her did their job.

 _What the hell is McCann really up to?_

 _They could kill her. Take their time at it. Dump her body somewhere as a bloody mess; just another missing person, a woman who disappeared, a case never solved; another meaningless statistic…_

She ruthlessly squashes the flicker of terror and focuses on anger and determination. She's going to get out of here.

 _Alive._

o - o - o

Her captors haven't blindfolded her, which means she can study her surroundings, at least as far as her neck allows her to turn. The bricks look different than those at the warehouse, which might suggest that she has been moved elsewhere. Smelling the slightly damp walls around her, Sara concludes that she's in some sort of a cellar.

Her surroundings are incredibly quiet; another clue suggesting that she may be underground. She tries to work her head and jaws to get the gag out, but concedes defeat after maybe half an hour. _Even if someone could hear her, it's not going to happen until someone takes the gag out._

She then focuses on the rest of her restraints. If they had handcuffed her, she could have picked the locks. Unfortunately the zip-ties around her ankles aren't budging and neither are those around her wrists.

 _Damn it._

At last she closes her eyes and tries to get some sleep.

 _She might need her strength later._

o - o - o

The sound of the door opening wakes her up. Raising her head, Sara stares at the two men across from her – both of them wearing ski masks that conceal their faces.

Noticing their shoes, she immediately recognizes one of them as McCann. The other one must be an accomplice.

The fact that they're not letting her see their faces could be good news – if they were hell-bent on killing her, they might not have bothered with them. Or they could simply be used to taking precautions, thinks Sara cynically.

For a moment, they eye each other in silence.

"We checked you out," speaks the unknown man at last. He reaches into his pocket and Sara tenses involuntarily. Her eyes follow his hand as he pulls out something and tosses it on the ground. _Her IDs._

"Quite the set of IDs you have here," says the man conversationally. "Your name is Sara Ellis. You're a PI who stuck her nose where it didn't belong. That was a stupid thing to do."

Staring at the other man, Sara notices how McCann twitches next to his companion.

"I'll take out your gag now. Nobody will hear you here, so don't bother trying to scream. Make no mistake, I _will_ hurt you if you piss me off."

He pulls out a knife during his speech. She wants to laugh at his Mr. Blonde impression, except she knows better than to not take his threats seriously.

She shudders despite herself when he cuts her gag and yanks the remnants of the cloth out of her mouth. "Blondie" seems to smile under his mask. "Now Sara, let's find out what you really know about our operation…"

o - o - o

The chair flies when Blondie punches her into the stomach. For a moment, Sara sees stars, her head spinning from the way she hit it on the ground.

She thinks she hears her captors arguing, but she can't be sure. There's blood tickling down her chin from the way Blondie hit her earlier. Her sight is muddled by involuntary tears. Spitting out blood, she gasps for breath and tries to focus her scattered thoughts.

 _They'll keep up the violence; probably escalate it until she tells them the truth. Then if they realize how little she knows, they can kill her._

 _She can't let them know._

"I didn't sign up for _kidnapping_ people!" exclaims McCann from the other side of the room.

Her bloodied face hidden from them, Sara smiles. She has to hold on and wait for an opportunity to escape.

o - o - o

From the overheard bits of conversation, she realizes they're all corrupt cops – a group of several people, skimming from the money they apparently confiscated working cases and running their own dirty business on the side.

She knows they will probably come and search her PI office. Then they'll try to find her apartment, which will take them a bit longer, but ultimately they will succeed.

 _She doesn't have much time._

Sara seizes her opportunity when McCann visits her alone the next day.

"You need to tell us what you know," he says when he takes out Sara's gag.

"Why, so you can kill me?" she asks, her voice weak and raspy.

"We don't have to kill you," he says with an audible frown. "We could simply set you up with some drugs. Inject some into your bloodstream, leave more of them at your place…"

"…ruin my credibility and destroy my life. Wonderful plan."

"At least you'd _have_ a life. But you need to tell us what you know."

She looks away. "I'm hungry," she says at last, her voice wavering with fatigue and fear.

Her jailor nods. "I'll bring you something to eat."

Filled with anticipation, Sara watches him leave the room and holds her breath as she waits for him to return.

When McCann comes back, he's holding a spoon and a bowl of Ramen noodles. More importantly, he's still alone.

They have untied her twice when she mentioned using the bathroom, but always with several people in the room and guns aimed at her, and she wasn't stupid enough to try anything with the odds so against her.

 _But McCann is alone and the least capable of them. She might not get a better chance than this._

He eyes her with suspicion. "No funny business, do you understand?"

"Please, I'm really hungry," says Sara, her voice breaking with defeat.

Setting the bowl aside, McCann pulls out a knife and cuts through one of her zip-ties. Giving him a grateful smile, Sara stretches her hand and gives her wrist a few experimental moves.

Putting the knife away, McCann brings her the bowl with the still hot noodles and settles them in Sara's lap. Then he hands her the spoon.

She grabs the bowl, burning her fingers in the hot liquid, and throws the noodles in her captor's face.

McCann screams and grasps at his eyes, the noodles all over his ski mask. The second of distraction is all Sara needs to pull herself up in the chair and stand on her feet. She falls forward, knocking McCann to the ground with her. Clutching the spoon with all her might, she gasps in effort as she rolls over, ready to stab the spoon into her captor's eye, chest or neck –

And then she hears the sound of a gunshot and pain explodes in her thigh. She barely registers it as something moves toward her head.

A blow to her temple and she knows no more.

o - o - o

 _She's going to die down here._

She doesn't know how much time has passed since her escape attempt.

She's been shot in the leg. She thinks she has a concussion. She's not sure if she'd be able to walk even if they removed the zip-ties and ropes.

She tells herself she has no regrets. Somehow, she always expected her life would end like this – in pain, violent and alone.

Between the interrogation and the infection that's beginning to fester in her leg, she's almost grateful for the fever that eventually comes and allows her to slip away.

o - o - o

"… _Sara? Sara!"_

She's drowning in hallucinations and feverish dreams.

" _Sara, it's me. Can you hear me?"_

She blinks her eyes open, but the person above her is just a blurred smudge. Her eyes flicker closed again.

" _Let me get you out of these…"_

When she opens her eyes again, the restraints are gone and someone is pulling her up. Through the haze in her head, she blinks at the person lifting her up. She knows him from somewhere…

 _Green and yellow splotches…_

"Frog painting."

"Sorry, what did you say?"

 _No, that's not right…_

"Caffrey?" she asks weakly when the information finally clicks. _It must be another dream…_

He smiles at her. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?"

The smile disappears and he swallows. "I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard…"

What…

 _Nothing makes sense._

"Sara, hey! Listen to me. Can you walk?" Neal asks her as he wraps her arm around his shoulders.

 _Can she walk?_

There's pain, exhaustion. _And a man holding her up, standing by her side._

She grasps at his forearm. "Let's go."

o - o - o

She must have phased out for a moment, because suddenly they're out in the street and the air and wind never felt so sweet as now.

Neal half-leads, half-carries her to a car. _Did he steal it? He's one of the best thieves on the planet…_

"Where…"

"I'm taking you to a hospital," he says from the driver's seat after he buckles her up. "Just hold on, okay?"

 _They'll find them there. The bad cops will track them down…_ "Don't let them catch you," she wheezes out.

"Don't worry about me," says Neal with a pained smile.

She passes out before she can say anything else.

o - o - o

When she wakes up, she feels better than she has in days.

She's lying in a bed, so very soft and comfortable that she almost doesn't want to open her eyes. Pulling herself up, Sara looks around, realizing almost immediately that she is in a hospital.

She freezes when she realizes there's a man at the door.

"Hello Sara," says Peter Burke with a soft smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asks guardedly.

"Looking after you, in case someone tried to attack you again. May I?"

Sara watches him warily as Peter comes closer, pulling a chair to sit next to her bed.

"That's quite an operation you uncovered there. You could have come to us, you know? Just because you're a Private Investigator doesn't mean you have to do it all alone."

 _Operation? Uncovered…?_

She notices a file lying on the table. Without betraying her surprise, Sara reaches for it, opens it and starts reading.

A group of corrupt cops, selling guns and skimming money off of drug busts. Carefully, she flips through page after page, until slowly allowing herself a small smile.

With the information there, the cops who held her captive are going down; it's just a matter of making the arrest.

' _Thank you, Neal.'_

o - o - o

It's two weeks after she's been released from the hospital. Still at home, Sara uses her crutches to make it to the kitchen. She grabs some Hot Pockets, sticks them into the microwave and waits for the beeping noise; then she somehow hobbles back to her couch with her plate, settles the crutches next to her and grabs her laptop to read the news.

She's halfway through the page when she sees a title that freezes her blood in her veins.

" _A suspected thief and bond forger arrested in New York"_

" _Neal Caffrey (28), who has been suspected on multiple counts of fraud, art theft and forgery, has recently been arrested by the New York FBI division…"_

Sara's plate breaks as it slips her hands and hits the floor.

* * *

 _A/N: Reviews are always welcome._


	5. Part V

**PART V**

She has always known the day would come.

Caffrey is good, one of the best even. He also had far too many agencies chasing him, and everyone slips at least once, eventually.

It was only a matter of time. And now he will go to prison.

She tells herself it's because he saved her life; that she owes him to look into things.

 _It's a lie._

 _She remembers how he made her smile, how he didn't hold it against her even after she tried to stab him in the back._

He's a thief, forger, a liar, a criminal.

She's not sure she actually gives a damn.

o - o - o

She's got all sorts of acquaintances that owe her favors; lawyers, journalists, even fixers. All of them mean squat when it comes to the fourteen felony charges that Caffrey is facing.

She arranges a meeting with the same lawyer who helped Danielle with her case against Jeremy Stout.

The taxi takes her to a diner where she knows they can talk in private. Resting her crutches in the corner of the booth, Sara lowers herself to the seat opposite of her contact, who is already waiting there for her.

"Hello Lance."

"Sara," Lance greets her with concern. "You didn't tell me you were still injured. How are you doing?"

She waves her hand dismissively. "It's just one wound and it's healing well. I'm fine. Now tell me. Do we still have client-attorney privilege?"

Lance frowns. "I'll keep your secrets, but this isn't exactly my area of expertise."

"Maybe not, but you've worked criminal law before. Just give me your basic insight."

She pulls out an envelope and passes him all the information she has amassed.

The waitress interrupts them then, and they both order coffee, with Sara opting for a dessert to go with that. She then sips at her coffee and slowly eats her cake while she patiently waits for Lance to read through her notes.

Finally he closes the file and looks back at her.

"How bad?" Sara asks.

"I don't have access to what the prosecution has–"

"But if you had to guess?"

Her lawyer frowns. "The racketeering charges and the money laundering are a stretch. Unless they have a hidden ace, the jewelry theft won't hold either." He pauses. "The Picasso, the Atlantic bonds and the Monet… they'll probably get him on at least one of those."

 _It's not the answer she hoped to hear._

There has to be _something_ she can do. "What if I was his character witness?"

Lance raises his eyebrows. "May I ask how do you know Mr. Caffrey?"

"He's one of my contacts," says Sara, even if that's barely the surface of the truth. She clears her throat. "You asked me how I was doing. It's thanks to Caffrey I'm even here today. I didn't escape from McCann's group; he got me out."

Lance whistles. "So you owe him."

"Something like that," says Sara agreeably, because it's the simplest explanation.

 _She's not going to talk about things that she doesn't yet even understand herself._

"Let's talk hypothetically," says Lance at last. "I suppose you and Mr. Caffrey have met somewhere in the past. I assume your association was purely legal and you had no idea he was a fugitive?"

"Exactly…"

"So that means he kept his identity from you. Now, you said Caffrey rescued you from the corrupt cops. Pardon me, but how did he even know you were there?"

"He wasn't working with them! Lance, I _know_ him–"

"Let's say you're right. Let's even say the prosecution and the jury believe that. From what I understand, Caffrey's whole defense will be built on the fact that the FBI supposedly made him into some sort of a superman; that he couldn't have committed those crimes because he's not capable of it. But if you tell them he rescued you…"

"…it will mean he probably has all those abilities he's been trying to deny. Damn it."

She suspects it hurts Caffrey's pride, to pretend and claim that he _isn't_ a brilliant thief, forger and everything they say about him. But if she tries to help him, his whole charade will fall apart.

"And if I make something up?" asks Sara challengingly.

"Then as your own lawyer, I'll remind you that false testimony is a crime." Lance pauses. "As a friend… don't. Most likely, you'd only hurt his case even if you didn't implicate yourself. I'm sorry, Sara, but you can't help him."

 _He's right._

She can't help Neal. She can only watch, and then send money to his prison account after they convict him. Hell, maybe she can play Caffrey's prison widow, drop by for a visit every Thanksgiving and Christmas for the next eight or fifteen years.

 _The life of her dreams._

Her eyes remain dry when she smiles at her lawyer. "Thank you, Lance."

She's learned long ago not to cry for might-have-beens.

o - o - o

The FBI needs to talk to her about McCann and his group. It's five days after her meeting with Lance that Sara comes to the White Collar office to give her slightly altered testimony.

She's happy to have finally gotten rid of the crutches, instead using a rather stylish cane that allows her to walk without looking and feeling like an invalid. The cane makes dull clattering noises that can almost replace the sound of her heels when Peter Burke takes her to the conference room. With her perfect dress and her mask back in place, Sara pulls off the whole calm invincible act.

She's steady, unfazed, unhurt. She doesn't need anything or anyone.

They go over the details of her investigation and later her captivity. When talking about her escape, Sara claims her memory has been blurred by the fever. She wonders if she should mention Neal's name to Peter Burke, but deep down she knows it wouldn't change anything.

Just like her, Caffrey has always been on his own. He wouldn't expect anything else.

She's worked with the FBI before, so when Peter gets an unexpected call and suggests they take a break, the other agents leave Sara unsupervised. Her leg still hurts, but sitting down for too long actually makes it worse, so she decides to take a stroll around the office.

She's pretty sure she's not supposed to go anywhere except probably the bathrooms or the break room. In the years to come, she won't know what led her steps to the undistinguished door of a storage room.

She finds herself alone in a room with several boxes of evidence. Her heart stops when she realizes they all have "Neal Caffrey" written on the tag.

Frozen to a spot, Sara recalls her talk with Lance.

 _She can't do anything to help Neal._

She stares at the boxes with documents. Almost immediately, an idea takes shape in her head.

 _There are no cameras in the room._

Without hesitation, Sara steps forward and opens the first of the boxes. She doesn't have much time.

The box is filled with files and documents. With only a vague idea of what she's looking for, Sara quickly scans through the box before moving on to the second.

She only stills for a moment when she finds it. She then filches the whole set of papers, her hands steady as she stuffs them in her purse. Closing the box, Sara picks up her cane and quietly slips out of the room.

She runs into Peter's new probie just a few steps outside the storage room.

"Diana?"

"Miss Ellis."

She smiles at her. "Please, call me Sara. Hey, do you think I could get some coffee here?"

The agent smiles at her. "Of course. Follow me, please."

Drinking coffee, chatting and smiling with Diana, Sara feels the content of her purse burn into her side.

 _If she's discovered, she will go to jail._

She has noticed it on her way to the kitchen. Taking advantage of the camera-free spot, Sara takes a few quick steps to the shredder. When she's sure nobody's watching her, she turns the machine on and pulls out the content of her purse.

She feeds the forged Atlantic bonds to the shredder and watches until the incriminating evidence turns into a hundred little pieces.

Then she turns it off, grabs her cane and returns to the conference room with her coffee to wait for Peter.

o - o - o

 _She dreams about being caught and arrested. She goes to prison, gets her own orange jumpsuit just like what Caffrey will likely be wearing soon. And then the walls of her cell fade away and she's back in that cellar, but this time when they shoot her, nobody comes for her, and she bleeds and bleeds until she dies, alone…_

She wakes up screaming and trembling like a leaf, which is _stupid_ because she's not some weak flower, she's stronger than this.

Trying to reach the lamp in the darkness, Sara curses when she knocks down her cane. She eventually hobbles to the bathroom, finds some sleeping pills and swallows two before hobbling back to her bed.

She doesn't have any more dreams after that.

o - o - o

The next day, she finally goes back to her PI office. Two days after that, she gets a visit from Peter Burke.

He says some evidence disappeared. The bonds that Caffrey forged have been shredded, ruined so badly there was no way they could be used for the trial. Sara was the one of the few non-FBI people there during those two days. Diana saw her outside the storage room. The only thing Peter doesn't know is her motive.

 _Luckily for Sara, he also has no proof._

She's smart enough not to confirm his accusations. But she also doesn't deny them.

Peter's still furious and hurt, and Sara knows if he had any evidence of what she has done, he would charge her without a blink of an eye.

There won't be any future cooperation between her and the FBI, that is very much clear.

"Why?" asks Peter at last.

He deserves an answer.

"What if I owed him my life?" says Sara.

"What? How?"

Very deliberately, she stands up from her desk and leans against her cane. Peter's eyes widen in understanding.

"He helped you get away."

She doesn't confirm it, but Peter already knows.

 _And yet she lied to him,_ Sara thinks when the agent finally leaves. Because she didn't help Neal out of a sense of obligation.

Besides, none of it will matter if he gets a fifteen-year sentence.

She can't think about it until the end of the trial.

o - o - o

Three months after her rescue, Sara reads in the paper that Neal Caffrey has been convicted of Criminal possession of a forged instrument.

Stealing, forging, embezzling – the Monet, Picasso, the Atlantic bonds; on all those accounts, they found him _not guilty._ The only thing they can pin on him is the grand crime of _having a fake ID,_ a class A misdemeanor for which they sentence him to six months in jail, three of which he has already served while awaiting trial.

It's ridiculous, and if she's honest with herself, it's spitting in the face of law. Neal's defense team won; his sentence little more than a slap on the wrist. She should really feel guilty for her part in it.

 _Her conscience never quite followed the letter of the law._

Caffrey's sentence means nothing to Sara, only that they're square now. She has repaid him for his rescue, and now she's got her own life, her PI business to run. Things have gotten much more difficult now that she's sure Diana Berrigan and Peter are watching her like hawks.

 _It means nothing._

o - o - o

Three months later, she comes home one afternoon to find Neal waiting for her in her apartment.


	6. Part VI

**PART VI**

When Sara gets home and finds Caffrey there, her first thought is that she's not quite surprised.

Neal is sitting on her couch, sipping a glass of water as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Hey Sara."

She glares at him. "You broke into my place."

Neal quirks his lip. "Are you going to call the police on me?"

"Or I could just shoot you as an intruder," Sara states threateningly.

"I really hope you don't, then."

And then he grins at her, and Sara finds her façade cracking, smiling back at him.

"It's good to see you, Caffrey."

"It's good to see you too."

It's an unconscious move. They both step forward at the same time, wrapping their arms around each other. Their kiss feels familiar, as if over a year hasn't passed since the last time they were together.

When they break apart, an unspoken message passed between them. She hears Neal's breathing (too erratic, too fast) and feels the sticky tension clinging to her body like an invisible veil.

She clears her throat. "Sex now, talk later?"

"Fine with me."

They share a quick smile before going for each other's clothes. Both of them impatient, they stumble on their way to the couch.

Laughing, Sara pushes Neal on the couch. She moves on to Neal's buttons while he pulls off her shirt, and soon they're both naked, eager in their shared desire.

The joining of their bodies feels like the most natural thing in the world.

o - o - o

Some time later, Sara feels the pleasant fatigue seeping into her bones. Not surprisingly, the physical connection between them works just as well as before.

Lying on the couch, she thinks they could stay like this – go back to sex, favors and pretense. They could ignore the _something_ between them which might bring joy but also promised heartache and ugliness and _complications_. It would be laughably easy; just get off the couch, put on some clothes and push Caffrey away, going back to the world where things are simple and nothing can hurt you.

 _Maybe she's had too much of "simple" in the past._

Lying next to Neal, Sara clings to the physical contact, thinks about her walls and wonders if she'll ever be able to let Neal in. If she even wants to.

Then he smiles at her and something inside her clenches. She wants to run, wants to escape before he lets her down, before he leaves, before he tears her apart more than he already did. He's ruining her, making her weak and vulnerable, and she doesn't need that – she's stronger on her own, she's better alone, she's…

 _A coward._

She's afraid. Deep down, Sara knows she's been afraid ever since Emily. _Her sister brutally murdered, the perpetrator never caught because there just wasn't enough evidence: no witnesses, no case, no nothing; only a solid alibi provided by the killer's best friend._

The FBI turned down her application. She left the police academy when she realized that the rules were too strict and would only get in her way. Instead, she spent the required three years working for a PI and then applied for her own license the very moment the law allowed her to.

Using her new skills, she dug up everything she could on Emily's killer and didn't let up until his life was ruined beyond recognition. And then she built walls around her heart, made sure nobody would ever get close, and started fixing other people's lives for them.

 _Until Caffrey came along and conned her into thinking that maybe she could want something_ more.

She sits up on the couch.

"It's getting cold here." She can feel the goose bumps on her skin.

Neal smirks at her. "Is this another _Titanic_ reference? For the record, I'd totally slip those cuffs before letting you anywhere near my hands with an axe."

What… _Oh._ A memory almost forgotten, Sara remembers their conversation all those months ago. She smiles. "Interesting. And I suppose you have a solution to keep us from drowning as well."

"Yep. You keep your own flotsam, I find one for myself."

"You'd let me _drown?_ " she exclaims with mock outrage.

"No, you're too stubborn to drown. We'll meet again once we we're rescued, and then I'll forge the _Heart of the Ocean_ , we'll fence it and start a whole new life."

"Oh, so we start our arrival to the New World with a series of crimes, and… we sell the copy."

"Yep, while you keep the original."

"Very _innovative_ ending," says Sara with a grin.

While they bicker, Neal passes her the folded blanket from the edge of the couch. As he covers them both, Sara's shaking gets worse for a few moments before it fades away, replaced by a sense of calm and relief.

 _Maybe she can do this._

She holds Neal's hand as she listens to the sound of his heartbeat.

o - o - o

In the end, it's Neal who mentions the elephant in the room.

"So where do you think we're going with this?"

At one time, Sara's immediate instinct would have been to push him away. Now… "I don't know."

Their touches are suddenly intimate, more so than before. It's not an unpleasant feeling, and Sara lets it go on until Neal tries to touch the scar on her thigh and she hits a mental block. She catches his wrist, stopping him before he can move further even as she gives him a half-apologetic look.

She swallows. "I think it's time we talked."

Neal smiles. "I'm looking forward to it."

o - o - o

They settle in the kitchen; dressed, a glass of wine before each of them (and _only_ one glass, since the point is to ease them a bit into the conversation, not get them both wasted).

They start light, because despite the rather recent events, they haven't seen each other for a long time. Sara talks about her cases and Neal shares some stories about his (alleged) heists in Europe. However, as the evening progresses, they move on to more serious topics.

"So how long have you been out?" asks Sara.

"Two days. I wanted to get some things in order and find a new place before I dropped in on you." Neal pauses before looking in her eyes. "You know, I heard that the Atlantic bonds mysteriously became unavailable as evidence against me at my trial."

"Imagine that," says Sara neutrally.

"My attorney told me if the bonds hadn't been lost, I would have likely been convicted. Agent Burke seemed to think you had something to do with that."

"Oh?" Sara feels curious almost despite herself. "What did he say?"

"He said I got a second chance I didn't deserve. That I was goddamn lucky to have you on my side."

"Really," says Sara with a hint of bitterness. "So, what now? You're here out of some misplaced gratitude?"

"Please. Did I ever do what people wanted me to?" He shakes his head. "You're a remarkable woman; smart, gorgeous, independent… You got under my skin. Even when I didn't want to come back, I missed you. Once I learned what you did for me, I had to come and see you. I wanted to know if there could be more between us… Unless _you_ shredded the bonds out of gratitude."

"No," says Sara after a moment. "I mean, I'm glad you got me out of that cellar, but that wasn't the only reason. I didn't do it to repay some sort of a debt."

Neal smiles at her. "I was hoping you'd say that."

For a moment, they watch each other in silence.

It's Sara who asks the next question. "So, I always wondered. Back at the gallery, when we first met; why did you ask me out? And don't tell me it was 'love at first sight'."

"No, not really." Neal hesitates. "There was I girl I loved at the time, Kate. She had a boyfriend, but then one day she came to my place and kissed me. I thought there might be something between us… Then the next day, she left for Chicago with him."

Sara tries to connect the dots. "So, the first time we met…"

"…was a week after she left. My wounded ego needed some patching up, and you were by far the most interesting woman in the room." He pauses. "At the time, you were a distraction. But then we got to know each other, and…"

"It became more."

"Yes."

She should probably be upset, Sara thinks to herself. Instead, she is profoundly relieved and _happy_. She doesn't believe in 'love at first sight', but nothing becoming something… that she can understand.

"Maybe you _should_ paint me someday," she says out of blue, once again remembering that old conversation before she tried to blackmail him.

Neal brightens up with true joy. "I'd love to do that. Really."

She smiles at him. "Just make sure you're around for it, then."

He frowns a little before nodding. "You're telling me not to get arrested again."

"I won't visit you in prison," she warns.

"I'll bear that in mind."

She wants to make demands and extract promises. In the end though, she knows she has to let him choose his own path.

o - o - o

A month later, they're lying side by side in her bed. Listening to Neal's quiet breathing, Sara remains awake, staring at the ceiling.

She doesn't think Neal will accept her proposition and join her in her PI business, at least not now and not as her partner, but maybe he could consult with her from time to time. Recently, Neal told her about his friend Mozzie and suggested introducing Sara to him. For better or worse, he is letting her more into his life; trusting her where he wouldn't have before.

She hasn't seen any evidence that he's been up to something illegal. On the other hand, she hasn't seen him exploring any _legal_ options either, and she wonders how long this sort of vacuum will last. If she's going to be dating an active criminal, then at least she wants to know about it, if only to open the window and help him escape once the police comes knocking on their door.

Neal makes her laugh. He makes her feel less broken, steadier, as if there's a part of her that's been missing and he helped her find it and put it back.

She wonders if she's naïve, setting herself up for heartbreak.

Instead, when the blow comes, it's from a direction she didn't expect.

o - o - o

She doesn't do anything she hasn't done in the past. In fact, she does the _exact_ same thing that her PI mentor taught her before she earned her own license. She knows that PIs are not above the rules, but there's always been a sort of camaraderie with the police that allowed her a certain leeway.

 _She's working another case when she's arrested for trespassing._

There are handcuffs and everything as they take her to the station, but she thinks she'll be able to talk her way out of it, as she has done during those rare occasions in the past.

Then Peter Burke appears on the scene and Sara finally understands what's going on. The consequences for helping Neal go free are catching up with her.

Her first loyalty is to her client and as always she has an excuse ready, but her story can only take her so far. Things proceed fast after that.

Her PI license is suspended and she gets a hearing with the Department of State. With the police and the FBI breathing down her back, she makes a deal with the prosecution, pleads guilty to a class B misdemeanor and pays a fine.

Neal is horrified and feeling guilty, and she's not as wrapped up in her problems that she doesn't see he's got one foot out of the door.

"Oh, don't you _dare_ ," she snaps at him. "It was my choice to help you. You don't get to feel guilty and walk out on me because you don't like where it led."

He disappears for three days; then comes back with flowers and wine and an unspoken apology. After that, he stays.

The ink on her brand new shiny criminal record is still drying when Sara has her hearing with the Department of State. It's a long battle, but in the end she wins, if only barely. She professes her deepest regret for her actions, agrees to pay a fine of $1000 and ends up with her license suspended for three months.

 _She still has her job, for now._

She wonders if that's it, if this development will satisfy the FBI's need for retribution. Because she can play it by the book, she can be careful and not break the rules, but if they're determined to get back at her, they will succeed. Sara's never had any illusions about how things worked in this world.

 _The same way she destroyed the life of her sister's killer without really breaking any laws, the same way Peter Burke can ruin her, if he decides that it's justice for abusing his trust and shredding those bonds._

She doesn't think Peter is vindictive like that. Then again, the agent probably didn't think Sara would break the law and destroy evidence in his very own office, so maybe they're both due to a surprise here.

Either way, right now her license is suspended. She has three months to reevaluate things and decide where to go from here.

o - o - o

"I thought about going away for a while," says Neal to her a few days after she learns the decision of the board. "I was wondering if you'd like to come with me?"

Sara frowns at him. "I don't run, Neal."

"I didn't mean not to come back. I thought more like a vacation. To figure things out, see new places, maybe visit a few museums and see some art. Have fun."

She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed. "If _seeing_ art is some sort of a legal euphemism–"

He chuckles. "No, I think I gave up on the idea of heist dates a while ago."

" _Heist dates._ Is that really a thing among thieves?"

He smirks. "Oh yes. One day, remind me to tell you about Alex and Copenhagen."

 _His criminal past she still doesn't know enough about._

She bites her lip while thinking about it. "A vacation, you say."

"Nothing illegal, just the two of us doing the normal tourist stuff."

She doubts anything Caffrey comes up with will be particularly _normal_. Still, she _does_ have three months of free time on her hands. Making an abrupt decision, Sara smiles at him. "Sure, why not."

He beams at her. "It'll be perfect, you'll see. I swear you're going to love it. We could go to Venice – or Paris. Maybe Vienna…"

It's hard not to be swept by his enthusiasm.

However, someone has to be the level-headed one in this relationship. "Remember, I'm not breaking you out of a French prison." Neal never blamed her for being blunt.

Neal turns serious at those words. "And I won't make you. I promise."

She wants to scoff at them both, him for making a statement like that and herself for trying to believe him.

It's going to be a disaster, she can feel it in her bones.

o - o - o

They're sitting on a bench, watching the sunset in France when Neal clears his throat.

"I wanted to show you something."

Oh no.

 _He probably plans to rob the Louvre. Scratch that, he_ did _already rob the Louvre. What if –_

No. Sara deliberately stops that train of thought, because if she trusts him, the joke stopped being funny a while ago. And if she doesn't trust him…

"What is it?" she asks with a curious smile.

She expects a lot of things, but the booklet Neal places on the table is not one of them. Upon his prompting, she opens it at the suggested page.

 _Sterling &Bosch. Employment opportunities._

"You're thinking of becoming an insurance investigator?" she asks in surprise.

"Me, or you – maybe both of us." Neal hesitates. "Do you think they'd hire me?"

"I like private investigation just fine, thank you." Still, it's an interesting idea, and Sara makes a mental note before she considers Neal's question. "They would have heard of your reputation. They'd have to be pretty bold to hire a known thief and forger." She pauses. "It's worth a shot, I guess."

"Yeah, maybe."

They fall back into comfortable silence, watching the sun setting over the ocean. Staring at Neal's profile, Sara smiles.

She doesn't know how it's going to end. But right now, she's exactly where she wants to be.

 **THE END**

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading and if you got this far, please consider leaving a comment :)_


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